What Could Have Been
by Shadowy Flip Flops of DOOM
Summary: If Sirius had escaped earlier, if Harry had had an enitrely different childhood...what could have happened? Includes Snarky!Harry and Awesome!Sirius. Abandoned
1. Stuff You Don't Really Need to Know

I deleted the first three chapters, because only one person responded when I asked if I should and they told me to, which was what I was leaning towards anyways. So here ya go.

This chapter isn't deleted so I can A, prattle on, and B, tell people stuff they don't need to know. Oh, and if you've just started reading this, I rewrote this after chapter three and I just deleted the original story.


	2. In Which the Rewrite Starts

**Kay. Nothing to say. Poet and I didn't know it. I'll stop now.**

_The Rumor:_

Everyone was talking about it. It was the scandal of the year, even barring the Fudge/Umbridge story Rita Skeeter had "unearthed" last August (it had been a particularly slow month for gossip).

But this was better, no, _worse_, much worse than that had been. Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, the only one ever to survive the Killing Curse, the extraordinary baby who had destroyed Voldemort himself, had been kidnapped! By Sirius Black, no less!

People would look around nervously when talking about it, as if expecting a murderous Sirius Black to jump out of the shadows if they so much as whispered his name, but they'd talk nonetheless. "Did you hear?" They'd say, rhetorically, of course, _everyone _had heard. "Poor little Harry. Only three years old, and kidnapped by that...that _monster!_" The other person would nod in agreement and in the same hushed whisper "It's so strange he didn't kill Harry's relatives right there, on the spot." The other person would offer an answer. "They say he didn't want to attract attention, that he wanted to bring poor little Harry Potter to You-Know-Who." The person would then shudder delicately.

The other would nod, too, that was the best theory the Aurors could come up with, that Black was insane and thought You-Know-Who to be still alive. Although it was still bizarre. Still, what could you expect from a mass murderer? "It's so horrible." They would say. "I can't _imagine _how terrified poor, poor little Harry must be. Did you see the picture? He's crying, I think, that's what it looks like, but it's hard to tell what with it not moving. I don't know how Muggles deal with that." The only picture anyone could come up with was one a muggle had shot, and thus, did not move.

"The Ministry is so incompetent." One would add, sniffing expressively. "_I _could do better than them. It's been two weeks, and no one has seen hide nor hair of Black _or _Harry." Then the conversation would move on to rumors about what had happened to that poor little toddler, how Black had escaped, anything to keep the gossip fueled.

But they'd catch Black, wouldn't they? After all, even the _muggles _were on alert. Surely _someone _would see those two widely broadcasted faces. They had to, didn't they? ...Didn't they?

_The Truth:_

Rumors were flying, but no one could seem to come up with anything more strange than the truth, even one pesky Rita Skeeter. For the truth was very strange indeed.

Actually, Sirius Black and Harry Potter had been sighted several times. As a rather ragged large black dog carrying a dirty (conveniently toddler sized) package, heading towards anywhere uninhabited.

Sirius Black was innocent, as he would have pleaded, had he gotten a trial. Peter fucking Pettigrew (as he was called by all who knew the full story, currently including one Sirius Black...and that's it..) had committed all crimes attributed to him, except the current kidnapping charge and escaping from Azkaban. That had been all him-making use of his Animagus form, an emaciated black dog. He slipped through the bars, somehow managed to swim across the moat, and ran for Number Four, Privet Drive.

A few simple Glamours concealed his...well, general appearance, and a few other charms made him look very much the part of a businessman interested in buying drills. It was simple enough to snatch the boy from under the Dursley's very noses after he got in. Very sad how easily the wards could be tricked-as he technically didn't have anything but Harry's best interests in mind, they let him through. Although he supposed it was unlikely Voldemort would simply drop by to wish Harry a good birthday sometime...

By that time, Sirius was more than a little tired (after all, he hadn't practiced proper health or magic at all for almost two years, and wandless magic was exhausting in the best of health). He was 'spotted' only a minute or two after he took off the various Glamours on his person-not the smartest thing he'd ever done. The muggle snapped a picture before he could do anything-after that he ran.

It took a while, but eventually a very tired dog and a very hungry toddler made it to a forest that was relatively unoccupied. By this time, Sirius had nicked a few Galleons, enough to buy a shady wand from a shadier dealer. He hadn't been an Auror for nothing, either, as soon as he got a little strength back by hunting various forest-dwelling creatures (Harry adjusted to raw meat and berries and such pretty easily) he put his Auror training to good use and made a Portkey to France.

They stayed there for a while, recuperating, but eventually moved on to Germany, the Netherlands, Belgium, Switzerland, anywhere, really. They stayed in Germany for quite a while, comparatively-two years.

For a few years, they only just managed to survive on spit and prayers. Harry was definitely the one with the steady income. As soon as he could walk without tottering unsteadily, he was out on the streets, begging-and later stealing. He made friends easily, even at that age. He caught on to languages quickly-by the time he was seven, he knew an odd hodgepodge of Dutch, German, French, Spanish, and smidgeons of Romanian, Italian, Greek, and, strangely enough, Gobbledygook. It was a good story, but unfortunately, there is not enough time to tell it at the moment. Sirius, who had a little more trouble learning new languages that quickly, often had to have the young child interpret for him, which earned him a few strange looks. Sirius didn't care. He was used to being stared at.

When Harry was seven and a half (and four years had passed since Sirius had kidnapped his godson) they headed back to Great Britain. Sirius was a bit homesick, and with the aid of a few Glamours, no one would recognize them anyways.

~*v{o}v*~

Despite technically being homeless and nomadic the whole time, four years out of Azkaban had done Sirius loads of good. He once again resembled the man who had joked and laughed with Lily and James on their wedding day-and not at all one accusatory muggle photograph. And his mental health had improved dramatically, too. Oh, sure, he still woke up in a cold sweat sometimes, but better that than waking up screaming every night. He had forgiven himself-mostly.

So Sirius Black decided to take a major risk and commit another crime, to keep company with the charges of thievery, kidnapping, escaping from Azkaban, and, oh yeah, murder. Quite the list he's got going here, isn't it?

He tracked down one Remus Lupin fairly easily. Privacy standards were much lower for werewolves. Remus had been hiding out in the muggle world, working odd jobs for anyone who's hire him-he'd really have preferred to teach, but it's not very easy to get a teaching job without a degree, and a degree without ever having gone to high school. _Conventional _high school, that is...

Moony hadn't set up wards around his house-werewolves were banned from doing so. Along with the privacy standards, this really boded well for Remus should anyone ever want to kill him. Hell, next thing they'd probably be banned from eating, drinking, and using the toilet! But that was besides the point, anyways. It worked to Sirius's advantage, just this once. And that one time in sixth year, too, but that didn't count.

Sirius told Harry in his, "This is really and truly serious, so serious I'm not going to make The Pun" voice to _stay _in the town near Moony's house, if he wanted his head when he came back. Harry had nodded and grinned and looked meaningfully at some wallets practically begging to have their money liberated. Sirius had sighed, rolled his eyes, and went to make up with an old friend, not even bothering to lecture Harry on why other people's money should technically stay theirs. Harry always managed to out-logic him anyways.

Sirius knocked, having given himself blond eyes, blue hair, and a totally different face structure. He explained that he needed to talk to one R. J. Lupin, and could he possibly come in? Remus ushered him in, of course, always the polite and _not paranoid_ host. Mad Eye-Moody would have been horrified-with good reason, as it turns out.

The second the werewolf had turned his back on his rather mysterious visitor, to pour some of the tea he had coincidentally been brewing, Sirius had body-locked him, silenced him, and set him gently on the couch.

Remus, who never kept his wand on him anymore-he hadn't used it for years, why should he now? Would have probably scowled at Sirius, shouted at him, and then decapitated him, not necessarily in that order, had he had the chance. As it was, though, he had to settle for simply scowling as Sirius removed the various Glamours on his person, revealing a rather handsome face.

"Those are really uncomfortable, you know." Sirius commented to Remus, who was trying to convey his wish to murder Sirius then and there through the limited body movement available to him at the time. It came through pretty clear, considering the circumstances.

"Don't look at me like that!" Sirius said, catching the visionary death threat. It would have been hard not to, actually. "I come all the way here, risking life and limb, and what does he do? He looks like I kicked his puppy." Sirius muttered. Remus just continued glaring and tried to think of a spell that would get him out of this mess. And get him a chance to murder the betrayer.

Sirius, apparently reading his mind, continued right on with his monologue. "Okay, so I'm going to explain why I'm here before you find a way out of that spell and throttle me." He cleared his throat nervously, suddenly looking a lot less confident than roughly five seconds before. Funny what a difference a few moments can make.

"Basically," Sirius started, "I'm innocent. That bastard Peter fucking Pettigrew was the real traitor-I convinced James and Lily to switch. I was too obvious, I said. No one will suspect _poor_ little Peter Pettigrew!" Here he gave a bitter laugh. Remus, who was trying desperately to block out the explanation, because that couldn't be true, just _couldn't, _looked shocked, with good reason. "He was already the fucking spy. Peter was already the fucking spy!" Sirius glared balefully at the threadbare carpet, breathing heavily, before continuing.

"So I'm visiting Peter, but he isn't there. I was worried for the fucking rat, and I flew to Godric's Hollow, on my bike, you know, the motorcycle, to make sure everything was fine." Here Sirius snorted. "_Fine_, right. Definitely. Just _fine_."

"They were dead, of course. I think I was the first one to see them. I thought Harry was dead, too, I..." Sirius choked back a sob. "But then I found him, crying. Hagrid came, and I lent him my motorcycle and let him take Harry. No reason to keep the motorcycle, but I've regretted letting Harry go for _years_. I was going to get revenge on Peter fucking Pettigrew. I should have just hung on to Harry."

"So I tracked him down." Now Sirius was speaking quickly, almost feverishly, desperately needing to tell this story, to get it off his chest after all these years. "I tracked him down, and the bastard cuts off his finger, yells to the world that I killed them, and blows up the street, turning into what he truly is, a rat. And skitters off to freedom." Sirius's face was twisted into an expression of utter contempt. "_That _is what the famous Sirius Black went to prison for."

Remus was ashen white. Quickly, almost carelessly, Sirius lifted the Petrificus Totalus and the Silencio, having made his point. There was a very awkward silence as Remus processed how terribly _wrong _he had been. "I'm sorry." Remus finally whispered, looking, for lack of a better word, _very_ sad, with plenty of shock still lingering in his woeful eyes. "I know that will never cut it, but I'm sorry. So sorry. It was just so damning, you know? I think, for once in his life, Wormtail may have outsmarted you, Padfoot." Remus was smiling, but it did not reach his eyes, which were sparkling with tears. Sirius smiled too, but no smile could reach into the dark abbess of Azkaban that was haunting those jewel black eyes now.

There was a heart wrenching silence as both thought about the terrible events of long ago. Finally, Remus whispered, "Where is he?"

Startled, Sirius asked, "What?" Remus grinned humorlessly again. "Harry. I assume you didn't cut him into pieces and eat him?" Sirius looked a bit shocked, and Remus added, "That's the best of the rumors, you know. Some have you eating him alive." Sirius looked genuinely horrified, and Remus chuckled. "I know. That's what I thought."

Sirius grinned, and a little of the sparkle returned to his dead eyes. "He's in Gerton." Sirius said. "He's not to leave under pain of decapitation. Then again, maybe I should change it to being eaten alive, keep up with the times, you know."

Remus grinned. "Where'd you go?" He asked curiously. "As far as the Ministry is concerned, after that photo, you dropped off the face of the Earth."

"Nah." Sirius said, waving away the question casually. "Just toured France, Germany, Belgium, Switzerland, the Netherlands, and a couple of other small countries round there. I think we stepped over the border into Spain once, but I'm not too sure, actually. I wasn't really paying attention."

Remus smiled. "Trust you not to pay attention to which country you happen to be in. Bet Harry knows more languages than you." Sirius nodded. "He does, way more. You should hear his accent..actually, you should! I'll bring him over tomorrow."

And thus a friendship was rekindled. Harry got another unofficial godfather, and Remus got an unofficial godson, not that he technically hadn't been Harry godfather before, barring stupid Ministry werewolf discrimination laws. Not to mention Sirius and Remus got each other back. They spent a month or two hanging around before Sirius announced that he and Harry were moving on, and not to tell anyone that they existed, or, more accurately, were still alive. Remus had demanded to go with them, at which Sirius had pulled out his "Really?" look and Remus had deflated visibly. They visited each other often, even years later. In fact, the only real reason Sirius and Harry weren't currently residing with R. J. Lupin was because they would put themselves and him in danger by doing so. Mostly because Remus currently resided at Hogwarts, as the DA teacher.

So where were they living, if not there? Well might you ask...

~*v{o}v*~

Harry and Sirius actually lived in a pretty nice apartment. After Sirius had gotten over his paranoid streak (not even Azkaban could erase the memories of Moody pouncing on one, yelling in one's ear to be CONTSANTLY VIGILANT!) and they had headed back to Great Britain, Sirius had immediately withdrawn a huge amount of money from his account as the Head of the Black Family (in capitals, of course). It wasn't like the goblins were going to tell, even if anyone bothered to question them when both Sirius and Harry were considered dead. Plus, goblins were notorious for not giving a crap about wizarding authority. Those wizards that were not mindless sheep rather agreed with them on this policy.

The only reason they hadn't settled in Germany or something is while it _did _technically have branches of Gringotts, there was no way you could persuade goblins anywhere to let you withdraw money from another country. There were outposts of Gringotts all over Britain, and in any of these places you could withdraw most anything from your personal vault-apparently somehow the goblins had it rigged so the carts could take you to your vault from _anywhere _in England-but not in, say, Switzerland. Even Harry hadn't had any luck, and he _liked _goblins. Goblins liked him, too, as a matter of fact. It was very strange. Especially as goblins didn't like anyone, ever.

Harry had gotten sick, that was the truly the reason they had moved back. Sirius was a little homesick, of course, but he had more bad memories than good of Great Britain, why would he honestly want to go back? Yes, Harry had gotten sick. He'd gotten over it, and it was nothing a creative godfather couldn't fix, but it got Sirius worried about problems he couldn't fix that they wouldn't have the money to pay for, at least in whatever country they happened to be in at the time. Besides, Harry's career of liberating fat rich people of objects of value earned more than half their income. All of it, as a matter of fact.

So they moved back to Britain. Sirius, as stated, removed an obscene amount of money from his vault and bought a very nice apartment in Wizarding London, in Horizont Alley, as a matter of fact. That took a great deal of discussion with a seven year old Harry Potter. Harry insisted on a large city, and what better city than London, arguably the center of the British Wizarding World, as far as anyone could tell, at least. He got his way in the end, without a compromise, even, though it had taken lots of scowling and quite a few puppy dog looks, plus a couple of whining sessions. Pitiful, really, that Sirius could be swayed so easily, but stronger men had fallen to the infinite cuteness factor of young children. Besides, what could he say? Harry was _cute _when he wanted to be.

The house, or apartment, really, was pretty interesting. It was the top floor, something else Harry had insisted upon, and it had a balcony. What's more, the house across the street also had a balcony that you could climb onto if you were good enough at climbing-in true "We have to be completely 1700s" Wizarding style. The streets were so narrow and the buildings so poorly built that they actually leaned into each other. This just added to the charm for certain young children, although certain adults found it repressive not to be able to see the sky.

Of course, once they had gotten moved in, which took about fifteen minutes, seeing as they had been homeless for several years prior, Harry promised to stay off the streets and be a good boy.

That lasted for a very short amount of time. Harry got bored, and within ten minutes had snuck past Sirius and was off to rob unsuspecting citizens.

Sirius did a little better, but he, too, missed his old habits-he, being the very responsible adult he was, had taken on the very responsible responsibilities of "person who finds us a place to sleep tonight" and travel planner", as Harry already had "food provider" covered.

Sirius eventually managed to get a job as a menial laborer for the Ministry. Why he was even working for the Ministry as it had basically been the reason he had been sent to Azkaban for several years without a trial was unknown, but technically he had already done so before, being an Auror and all. Although that time he hadn't had the Azkaban experience.

Harry, sadly, never managed to get rid of old habits. Alas, he remained a klepto and probably would forever. Such is life.

~*v{o}v*~

Harry lounged on the steps of _The Enchanted Sphinx_, a bar well known as a good place for meeting people. He was staring at one of his best friends, Draco Malfoy, incredulously. "You want me to _what_? He repeated.

Draco dutifully said, :You need to go to Hogwarts this year. C'mon, you must have gotten a letter..." Harry frowned. He hadn't, in fact, gotten a letter-Siri must've found a way to heat the system, or more accurately, Remus. But it didn't really signify. He wasn't going to go to Hogwarts, whether he wanted to or not. To tell the truth, he rather _did_, but again, it didn't matter. He wasn't going. "No." He said, after a short pause. "Why?" Draco whined-yes, whined. You would think he would have grown out of it by now-he was, after all, a twelve year old. "I've been your best friend _forever_, and you _still _won't tell me. Trust me, Hogwarts is a hundred times better than being _home-schooled_." Draco then made a face as if homeschooling was the worst thing that could possibly happen to one-in his mind, it probably was.

"And why would I trust an overgrown brat like you?" Harry said, grinning. Draco just whined again, "_Why?_" Harry quipped, "I'll tell you when you're older." Draco glowered. "I'm older than you." He growled. Harry smirked. "So?"

Draco really was sad, Harry reflected. Even though they'd known each other for five years and been friends for three, Harry could still wind him up in five comments or less. He needed to get a thicker skin, or get a little wittier.. Currently, said boy had lapsed into a furious silence as he tried to convey to Harry just how much he hated him with a single glare. It quickly developed into a staring contest as Harry glared right back.

Their impromptu staring contest was interrupted when Neville, an overly cheerful boy who Harry had befriended two years ago, spotted them. Neville didn't like Draco-nor did Draco think much of Neville-but with Harry insulting them both constantly, it all worked out.

Neville yelled "James!" upon spotting his friend. James White (or James-No-Last-Name, depending on his mood and how much he liked the person he was talking to) was the alias Harry used. James for his father, White to go match Sirius. His name was Patrick as a reference to Padfoot and White as an effort to piss off any lingering traces of his dead parents. Although why they'd choose to linger around _Sirius _was beyond him. More likely to flock to Azkaban to talk to Bellatrix. Sad how much of the family had ended up there...

The slightly chubby boy hurried over to his friend, smiling brightly, at least until he realized exactly _whom _Harry was consorting with. The smile abruptly turned into a frown. "Hi James." He said, and less enthusiastically, "Hi Draco." Draco nodded curtly.

"Insert awkward silence here," Harry said, grinning. This _always _happened. Draco rolled his eyes and said distastefully, "I was just telling this moronic lump that somehow passes as a person that he should go to Hogwarts this year."

Neville nodded, for once in agreement with his arch nemesis. "Yeah! You really should, James. It'd be fun!" Harry shook his head steadfastly. "No thank you." He said breezily.

"You're nicer to him than you are to me." Draco noted. Harry nodded. "That's because he's not a moronic lump."

"You stole my insult."

"So?"

"Uncreative alert!"

"Prat."

"Shove it."

"Why should I?"

"Git."

"Berk."

"Prat."

"Who's reusing insults now?"

"Shut up."

"Only if _you _do first!"  
"Prat!"

Neville, for his part, watched the exchange in amusement. Banter was always amusing, especially between these two.

"Right then." He said, grinning. Both swiveled to glare at him in perfect unison. "Who invited _you _to interrupt us?" Harry said irritably. Harry liked a good banter, especially as there was no one amusing to practice on, usually. Sirius refused to banter with him for some reason.

"Merlin." Neville shot back. "But, seriously," -for some reason Harry grinned, as he always did when he heard that particular word- "we should go get ice cream at Florean's, my Gran's probably freaking out."

Neville was a rather timid boy by nature, but around friends (which he grudgingly acknowledged Draco as, when he wasn't being a ponce) he relaxed and was much less shy. That was the case now as he practically dragged Harry and Draco back to Diagon (they had been in Diurn). The three shot friendly insults back and forth as they went, not paying a terrible amount of attention to the world at large.

They were in the busiest part of the Alley when Harry started running, to make his mock show of terror for the wand Draco was brandishing threateningly (with a huge smile on his face) more believable.

Which just happened to be the moment he ran into one Severus Snape.

"Watch where you're going, boy-" Said man, looking rather like an overgrown bat, stopped suddenly as he caught sight of exactly _who _he was addressing.

"James?" He whispered, looking terrified.

Until "James" bolted.

~*v{o}v*~

Harry didn't know why he ran. Instinctive response, he supposed. He knew Snape, of course. Neville was terrified to death of the man (he seemed to have it out for the poor Hufflepuff) and Draco seemed to be rather fond of him. Siri had told him stories about him, once about how he'd almost murdered him-which had been kind of sort of an accident, except for the fact that it wasn't. Still, it didn't change anything, and it wasn't very important when all his frickin' secrets were three seconds from being revealed!

Snape, with instincts that just kind of went with living in a war, had caught the back of Harry's shirt. Of _course _he had. Harry spun around with the best glare he could muster. "Who are you and why did you just grab my shirt?" He demanded, deciding ignorance was the best policy.

His friends simply watched, at the moment too shocked about the whole James-just-ran-away-from-something incident to make any comment on the Professor's identity.

Snape, however, simply tightened his grip, not at all effected by the strange boy's attitude. The strange boy who just happened to resemble someone who had been dead for years. "Professor Severus Snape." He said softly, noticing the the boy did not look in the least affected by his name. Either he had known all along or he had never heard of him before. Most likely the former. "And I grabbed your shirt because you look _astonishingly _like an old _friend _of mine." All this was spoken in a whisper-soft, I'll-kill-you-if-you-make-a-wrong-move voice. "Would you mind?" He asked Draco and Neville sweetly, noting their faces so he could question them later. Still too shocked to make any protest, they simply shook their heads dumbly, on automatic for the moment.

"Now, how adverse are you to Floo powder?" Snape said, once Neville and Draco were lost in the crowd. Harry tried to wrench out of his grip, and spat, "Absolutely love it. Fantastic. Two thumbs up. Best way to travel."

"Good." Snape hissed, jerking the boy into the Apothecary. The shop owner was good friends with Snape, if only because he was his best customer, and readily allowed him to use his fireplace whenever the Professor needed it needed it.

Harry was roughly dragged to the fireplace, where Snape threw Floo powder rather harder than was absolutely necessary into the fire and wrenched Harry towards the now-green flames, spitting, "Hogwarts, Headmaster's office."

~*v{o}v*~

Dumbledore had been having a strange day.

In the morning, Severus had disappeared without notice, probably to go get more potion supplies for the school year. Normal enough.

Madam Sprout had reported that she had gotten a shipment of plants (on time, for once.) They were herbs, which they grew as the house elves appreciated not having to buy everything, as long as they still got to care for the plants. Herb shipments weren't so unusual, either, they received herbs throughout the year.

There had been no news from Minerva today. Albus assumed she was relaxing in her room. A little abnormal, as the teachers seldom ever got a chance to simply sit back even in the summer, but still, nothing too strange.

Trelawney had "predicted" yesterday that she would be retiring to her rooms the next day (in other words, today) so they hadn't heard any death predictions all day. As Trelawney often stayed in her room, this was normal also.

Binn had made no appearance, preferring his classroom. Filch had stalked the hallways but had not yet accused anyone of being a Parselmouth, a spy, a Ministry official, or, surprisingly, a dirty pig. Sometimes Filch could rival Mad-Eye Moody with the conspiracy theories.

Filius had been his usual cheerful self, and had not reported any strange incidents.

Madam Pomfrey had not not reported anyone with mortal injuries, except for Remus. It had been a full moon recently, and despite the newly developed Wolfsbane, which apparently helped greatly, Remus still had a hard time of full moons. It truly was a pity that his old friends were not there for him, Albus remembered how they had helped Remus greatly. But alas, two were dead by Voldemort's hand, if one was indirect, and the other was anywhere from dead to stark raving mad, wandering around an icy tundra somewhere. Not that Albus had ever really believed Sirius was dead. And the wards around Harry seemed to be, impossibly, intact, however weak. The wards were basically ineffectual and untraceable when he had been far away from blood relatives for so long, but they were still _up_. There was a mystery there...

But he was getting off topic. In short, everyone in the castle, including himself and possibly not but probably including Severus was having a normal day.

It was very worrying.

~*v{o}v*~

Once Harry had recovered from arriving rather unpleasantly, being on his knees and hacking up ashes at the time, he said to Snape, politely, considering the circumstances, "I could sue you for this, you know."

He sneered-a Level Seven out of ten, Harry believed. Pretty impressive. He'd developed a Sneer scale after a conversation with one Luna Lovegood. She had some highly entertaining theories. He was planning on submitting the Sneer Scale to the Quibbler sometime. It could come in handy sometime, such as, a goblin asks you exactly how much they're sneering or something, and plus, The Quibbler was the only news-thing he ever read. It made him laugh. All other newspapers made him depressed. On another note, Harry had also patented the "Stare" scale, "Glare" scale, and various others.

"Oh, really? The supposedly dead Harry Potter is going to go to court?" Snape asked, still sneering. Harry promptly answered, "I'm not Harry Potter. What planet do you live on? _Everyone _knows Harry Potter died a gruesome death as a baby at the hands of the notorious Sirius Black!" He gave Snape his best 'innocent' look, smiling brightly. "My name is _actually _James White. What's yours?"

Snape glared at the very innocent looking child before him, earning him another seven, except this time on the Glare Scale.

This was all watched, of course, by an extremely astonished Dumbledore. Not an emotion he was terribly used to-he was usually ahead of the game, it had something to do with being over a hundred years old, with experience aplenty, as one would imagine.

But who wouldn't be shocked? Despite the fact that he knew Harry had survived, actually seeing him today was very, very unanticipated.

Well, what was to be expected? Normal days never went well.

~*v{o}v*~

It took quite a while to persuade Harry to say anything.

Firstly, he kept on insisting he was alternately "James White," "Peter Pettigrew," "Voldemort," "Cornelius Fudge," and even once "Severus Snape." He seemed to delight in driving the Professor insane.

Finally, after Snape threatened to apply Veritaserum and Harry promptly replied it was illegal (Thank God for Draco Malfoy and his tendency to get Harry very boring but admittedly helpful books for birthdays and Christmas, which he eventually read because Draco forced him to), Dumbledore gently suggested that Severus really _should _be getting the potion supplies he'd set out for in the first place. He was looking a bit stressed.

As soon as Severus had exited, Harry sighed and plopped into one of the armchairs that Albus had conjured near the beginning of the ordeal but as of yet had not been sat in. "Thank god that's over with. I can only antagonize people for so long." He then grinned lopsidedly at Dumbledore. Despite everything, Dumbledore's heart lurched, that was _exactly _the way James had smiled the many times he had been brought to this office, and later, too, though by then smiles were rare.

"Would you mind explaining some things now that Severus is gone, Harry?"

Harry inspected his nails. "Even if I knew someone named Harry, which I don't, no, I don't think I would." Dumbledore sighed. Drastic measures must be taken.

"Alright then, whoever-you-are," -Harry gasped dramatically at being assigned yet another hyphenated name- "Desperate times..."

He gently pushed against Harry's mind, only to find himself pushed back and Harry suddenly looking not nearly so friendly. "Legilimency? Really? You think Si-you think I wouldn't pick some stuff up? I know Occlumency, and I'm not afraid to use it!" The muggle reference made a whooshing noise as it flew over Dumbledore's head, along with the fact that he'd almost said Sirius.

Dumbledore held up his hands in a placating way. "I'm sorry, Harry, but as you seem dead-set against sharing anything, and I need answers before I can let you go, I wanted to...have a peek, as it were."  
"Without my permission?" Harry said, sounding highly affronted. "You're really racking up the crimes, you know." Another seemingly useless book Draco had bought him on his tenth birthday was all about Occlumency and Legilimency-apparently many "Dark Supporters" learned both. Harry had actually read those without being forced into it, then he had shown Sirius. Shortly after, they had both started learning Legilimency, as the book explained that without an actual teacher/attacker, Occlumency couldn't be learned. Legilimency, however, could, and afterward they could attack each other. Both were equally horrible at both skills, but Harry and Sirius could each protect their mind from a weak attack and launch a weak attack of their own. It also clearly stated that both were illegal and the person wishing to practice such arts better be pretty damn careful about not getting caught.

Dumbledore looked guilty, and Harry cheered silently about guilting him into not attacking again. God knows he couldn't protect himself against anything even marginally strong.

"Harry, won't you-" Harry cut him off. "No. You won't believe me, and besides, why should I? Like I said, you've broken a whole bunch of laws... And I haven't broken any." That you know of. Except the Occlumency thing.

Dumbledore suddenly got a steely look in his eyes. Harry suddenly got a decidedly nervous look in his eyes. "You will tell me," Dumbledore enunciated clearly, "Because although I'm sure you'll put on several layers of unbreakable Glamours as soon as you go home, people are bound to have seen you before. And they'll be plenty willing, I'm sure, to report having seen the famous Boy-Who-Lived-For-a-While."

Harry froze. He couldn't do _anything_. There was absolutely no way to wheedle his way out of the situation. He couldn't Apparate, even if he knew how, because of the wards, it's not like he kept a Portkey handy at all times (plus, he wasn't even sure that would work in Hogwarts) and Floo was out of the question-even if he did manage to get to the powder before Dumbledore stopped him, the Headmaster would clearly hear wherever he went and just follow him there. Plus, he could very well follow through on his threat, and had no current reason not to. Which also ruled out killing or obliviating him, as Snape had seen him too. Crap.

Very, very reluctantly, Harry mumbled something that sounded vaguely like "Fine." Dumbledore's eyes twinkled like crazy and Harry was tempted to make a snarky remark about them, but now was not the time. Maybe later.

Harry took a deep breath. "Okay, I'll tell you. Basically, Bastard One AKA Voldemort recruits Bastard Two AKA Peter Pettigrew, who is already secret keeper for my parents as my idiotic godfather Sirius has convinced them that he's too obvious a choice for secret keeper. Bastard One murders my parents then can't kill me for some obscure reason that no one really understands, Sirius Black who shall be known from this point forward Idiot One goes off to murder Bastard Two for betraying my parents, Bastard Two is smart for once in his fucking life, cuts off his finger, blows up the street, turns into a rat as he's secretly an illegal Animagus, and blames Idiot One for everything. Idiot One goes to Azkaban, and after being stupid for a while, finally breaks out as he's also an illegal Animagus-he's a big black mutt, and I'm talking entirely about the Animagus thing-and rescues me. We flee to France and migrate around in Europe for a while. We move back because poor old Paddy needs the comfort of home and yeah. Happy?" Harry peered up hopefully at Dumbledore.

He had fainted.

"Great!" Harry exclaimed happily. "This saves me a lot of trouble." He whipped out a wand from somewhere, and said with an evil grin, "Of course, we still must take precautions, of course."

With that, Harry Obliviated what was hopefully most of their conversation, hopefully still letting dear old Dumbles know that they had had the conversation/monologue at all, and Flooed home. He had a lot to tell Sirius.

**It turned out rather comedic for a while, I'm afraid. Reading fifty chapter humor stories does that to you.**


	3. In Which Pranking Happens

**Instead of another chapter, I'm gifting you with a few little 'prank scenes'. I was originally going to find a way to include all these in the story itself, or reveal it later, but none of it hints at the plot and it was already written, so what the heck. Yes, Harry gets to Hogwarts. That's one of the only things you can definitely gather from this chapter.**

The red-haired boy smiled brightly at Harry, who rolled his eyes. "I'm Ron Weasley. What's your name?"

Harry made a rude gesture as an answer and thought about the Weasleys-he knew them, from when Draco listened to his father a bit more. Nowadays, Draco preferred rebellion over senseless following, something Harry attributed to his own good influence, because he was just that awesome, but he still disliked the Weasleys. Harry privately wondered why. This boy was extremely annoying, yes, but not entirely abysmal in character.

That didn't mean he had to tolerate the annoyingness, though. Harry was seriously considerinh getting up to go find someone he already knew, but that might require _effort. _And the Weasley boy chattered on.

And on.

And on.

"Say." The boy finally said, interrupting himself from another description of his favorite Quidditch Team, Harry hadn't even bothered to register what it had been, "I have a joke for you. But it takes rather a long time to explain."

Harry rolled his eyes, but anything was better than senseless chatter, even if it was a probably a horrible joke. He nodded.

"Alright then!" Weasley said, grinning. "It's a muggle joke, my stupid brothers pulled it on me once. Bloody brothers..." He muttered, but soon seemed to remember that he was going to tell a joke, because he started talking, still managing to smile impossibly wide.

"A man is walking through the desert leading a donkey. There's no water in sight, and he takes a swig out of his water jug. His donkey looks at him and asks, "Oh, master, can't I please have some water?" The man merely says, "Patience, jackass, patience."

He repeated this about five times before Harry got the joke. He leaned back in his seat, waiting and grinning. This was going to be fun...

~*v{o}v*~

It was almost five minutes before the monotonous droning stopped. "Look." Weasley said exasperatedly. "Aren't you going to ask what happens next?"

His grin a real smile now, Harry answered, "Patience, jackass, patience." Ron looked completely flabbergasted at being outdone at his own joke, and Harry took that opportunity to flee and find someone who had actual conversation skills.

* * *

Harry had somehow managed to convince almost all of the Gryffindor* second years to play poker, after explaining the rules to the ones who had never played. Even Hermione had finally huffed and left her Transfiguration notes, as Ron wouldn't stop bugging her.

They weren't actually betting anything, as most people didn't keep money on them at Hogwarts until third year, as there was no chance to buy anything. Until Harry said, "I bet my fifth child."

There were a few snorts from around the table, and Dean, a muggle-born Harry hadn't had many conversations with, said, "Think you'd manage to find someone who'd have kids with you?" It was his turn next, though, as he was one of the few in the gathering that had an actual understanding of poker, and he shrugged, saying, "I bet my third puppy."

Harry gasped, faking distress. "Do you plan to do it with a dog, then, Dean?" A few people giggled. Dean answered, smirking, "Maybe." Harry grinned. He liked that guy.

Hermione was next. She'd insisted on being first as soon as she'd agreed to play, bossily explaining that _she _knew the rules, but Harry had given her an icy glare and she had wisely shut up. She was third to demonstrate how things were done "properly". Dean had just barely managed to squeeze in between her and Harry. Harry theorized that Dean had a crush on her, although how_ anyone _could have a crush on Hermione he couldn't fathom. She was _bossy_.

"Fine." Hermione glowered. "I'll gamble nonexistent family members. I bet my sixth wife."

It was a moment before anyone realized exactly what Hermione had just said, but when they did, the room burst into giggles. "Coming out of the closet, Hermione?" Harry snorted. Hermione, for her part, was blushing furiously. "I didn't..I.I meant..."

But it was too late. Hermione Granger had officially parted with her dignity.

* * *

It had taken months to plan this particular prank.

First, he had had to convince the Weasley twins to invent a magical equivalent of a video camera. There was simply no other way to record this inevitably priceless event. Plus, he liked the Weasley twins. Unlike Ron, who was really annoying, they were funny, and decent pranksters. His first day, they'd short-sheeted his bed.** An old and undoubtedly muggle trick, but they had added a charm that made it next to impossible to fix. Harry had, of course, responded by the old reliable trick of turning a Gryffs' hair and robes green and silver or a Slytherins' red and gold. It was rather boring, but technically advanced magic. Then again, living with two Marauders as your parental figures, you kind of pick stuff up.

He had finally gotten them to agree to inventing it, short of telling them what he was planning on doing, which went against his morals as a prankster, by telling them who the Marauders were. That had definitely depressed them a bit, learning their heroes were respectively dead, dead, apparently lost to wizarding society, and a convicted murderer, but it had also made them curious as to where Harry had gotten his info. They had also sent off a letter to Remus straight away. Harry had promised to tell them one story about his father that he'd heard from "somewhere" if they made the video camera-ish thing.

So he had his recording device, and he just had to plan when. That was, surprisingly, easy enough. The Headmaster always attended meals. Harry simply peeked into the Great Hall to make sure Dumbledore was there and then he was off to the Wizard of Oz, or possibly just the Headmaster's office. Whichever.

He had initially learned of the Headmaster's candy obsession after the Sorting, and several other visits as well as well-placed questions confirmed the password thing. Really quite careless, any Death Eater with who knew about it could guess it. Not that Harry cared. Who was he to complain if all it took to get into the Headmaster's office was seven guesses?

Also, apparently Dumbledore had already invented the 'video camera' thing. It was very convenient, really, having a view of just outside the room to be mysterious about.

~*v{o}v*~

Dumbledore returned from his delicious lunch slightly concerned. Harry had not been at the meal, which had never been a good thing, in his experiences so far with that particular youth.

Especially when, just outside his office, he heard a serene voice greeting him, "Come in, Headmaster."

Albus hurriedly did just that, worried for his state of mind if he did otherwise. Among other things.

He was greeted by one Harry Potter with a peculiar grin on his face and a twinkle in his eyes. He was almost drowning in the large chair he was sitting in, which just happened to be behind one Albus Dumbledore's desk. Which had a large glass bowl sitting on it.

"Lemon drop?"

***By the way, this doesn't necessarily mean Harry's a Gryff. Maybe he just likes having poker games with them. So NYAH. Don't make assumptions.**

****I'm pretty sure this involves making it hard to get into your bed. I'm really horrible at thinking up pranks, all the 'pranks' on this page actually happened to someone I knew. Except for the last one. I'm pretty sure I'm the first one to use that, and it definitely didn't happen to someone I knew. **

**If I get any more ideas, and sufficient response, I might post another chapter like this sometime. It depends, really...**


	4. In Which People Find Out

**THIS IS IMPORTANT! Anyways, you should probably go back and read the first chapter of the rewrite, AKA chapter 5, AKA Chapter The First II. There's a few very important changes. If you don't want to read the whole chapter again, you can just skip to the 5th ~*v{o}v*~ thing.**

There have been seven Animagus in the last century.

_Registered _Animagus, that is.

Actually, there have been several hundred Animagus in the last century. The thing was, none of them were registered.

There was a very good reason for this. The only people who would ever register themselves as an Animagus were doing it simply for the sake of _doing _it, gaining the mastery and the prestige of being able to turn into an animal at will.

As you would expect, those types of people were rather rare.

Another type of person were those who legally made themselves Animagus by working for the Ministry. However, they were not registered, as it would ruin any advantage they might have against potential enemies. In certain areas (The Unspeakable Department, for one) it was almost a _requirement _to be one, and many Ministry workers who were thinking about or had become an Animagus, as long as they told their superiors about it, were allowed to stay unregistered.

The next type was not quite as legal. This type had become an Animagus for a specific reason and were not about to give up the advantage just because of a few pesky _laws_. It was a bit more rare than the Ministry variety, but, still, it happened. They generally were not discovered except by close friends, and as most of these were not doing it for any particularly harmful reason, they remained illegal and unregistered. Well, okay, maybe Rita Skeeter had harmful intentions, but notice the _most_.

The third type of unregistered Animagus were criminals through and through and were Animagus solely to help them commit crimes. These were almost always discovered and reported after a few years and were not very common at all. Although _how _to become an Animagus was common knowledge on the street and most people, if they had a couple years, could do it, most criminals did not _have _a couple of years to spare for intensive training. Not to mention the fact that most criminal Animagus were caught. After all, few real animals try to rob stores and mug people...

Harry Potter wasn't an Animagus at all. But his godfather, Sirius Black, was, and Harry had just started learning. He'd wanted to since he was roughly five, but Sirius refused to teach him until he was twelve. By Sirius's reasoning, Harry would have to wait until the age the Marauders themselves had started the process, and he would also be learning almost the same way, which is to say he would be foregoing all the helpful potions and other little aids out there and simply desperately hoping it would work, and after roughly a year, trying it out.

Fun, fun.

~*v{o}v*~

When Harry practically tumbled out of the fireplace, Sirius was waiting for him, in a very cheerful mood. "Harry! You need to practice your Animagus stuff, you know, you're late again." He was trying to look serious, and failing miserably, unless, of course, you count his general state of affairs as looking Sirius, and yes, I'm very punny.

_Anyways_, Harry, on the other hand, looked fairly serious. "Snape caught me." He said the moment he fell out, smiling a bit oddly. "And then I told Dumbledore everything and promptly Obliviated him."

Sirius stopped dead, and looked absolutely starstruck. "W..What?" He stuttered dumbly.

Harry repeated his slap-dash explanation.

Sirius abruptly collapsed into a conveniently placed armchair. They had armchairs all over the house, courtesy of Sirius, as he claimed he never wanted to sleep on a floor again, even if he had partied drunkenly all night and didn't even retain the strength to open a beer bottle. Not that Sirius Black would _ever _get drunk and party, nuh-nuh, nope, no way _that _was happening. Especially with an _innocent _child in the house.

"Okay." Sirius said, after several minutes of awkward silence, in which Harry fidgeted uncomfortably. "Okay. Umm...Just call Remus, kay? I know he's at Hogwarts* , but just...call him." Quietly, when Harry had drifted away to make that call, he whispered, "Great. We're screwed."

Harry, of course, had actually been lingering, and heard him. "Nuh uh!" He yelled. "I'm _good _at Obliviate!"

Sirius rolled his eyes, but it _was _true. Sirius had decided right off that one of the spells they were going to need, living their lives of danger and suspense, strangely like an adventure book of some sort, was Obliviate, and Harry could perform it in his sleep. Literally. As a final test, Sirius had snuck up on him while he was asleep on the makeshift bed of straw that was actually in a barn (they were in the Switz mountains, a bit lost, and there wasn't much else available) and he had Obliviated his godfather sleepily without even waking up, or at least waking up only very briefly, as he was snoring immediately afterward.

Still, who knew if a twelve year old's (a very _skilled _twelve year old, but still a twelve year old) Obliviate would stand up to Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts and cartloads of other things, and the only man Voldemort is afraid of?

Although we all know that that is not true. Voldemort is definitely also afraid of a snotty-nosed second year dropout that isn't even technically a second year because he never went to school that had never officially defeated anyone except other snotty-nosed brats his own age(s).

Oops, forgot one Tom Marvolo Riddle. He's just so unobtrusive and forgettable, ya know?

~*v{o}v*~

Albus Dumbledore woke up after a light nap in the corridor to the frantic yelling of his MediWitch, Poppy Pomfrey. "Albus? Albus? Are you okay? I discovered you ten minutes ago, I think Severus has been in an accident too, he keeps on raving madly about Harry Potter and-"

"Poppy!" The Headmaster interrupted. "I'm fine. Severus is _not _crazy, I'll explain later. For now, I really must go to my office. I will let you administrate to me later." He added, as the nurse looked rather murderous that he was going to be leaving.

"Oh.._alright_." Madam Pomfrey said, after pondering for a minute. "But you have to promise to tell me then."

Albus simply nodded and got up, heading for his office.

As soon as he got there, he sat in his chair, fingers steepled.

It was an interesting predicament. Albus was fairly sure he could easily unravel the Obliviate, but he preferred to figure things out without that benefit.

Harry had not block Obliviated, simply eliminated the contents of the conversation, suggesting he was rather good at the spell. Hmm...what did he know about Harry Potter?  
Albus began calculating. First, he knew the general "Boy-Who-Lived" spiel, and the Sirius Black drama that came afterward. And that was where he needed to concentrate.

The Sirius Black drama... Harry certainly hadn't walked off by himself, it was certain that it had actually happened. The oddest thing about the whole event was that Sirius had gotten through the blood wards, which prevented any wizard with ill intent for any of the inhabitants from passing through. And the fact that he had not attacked the Dursleys at all was odd, in fact, he had posed as Muggle himself!

He had puzzled over this before, but now that he had more information, he was pondering on the only theory (other than pure insanity) anyone had been able to puzzle out.

Was Sirius Black innocent?

If you were running with that theory, the only way he could have given away the Potter's location was that he was tortured..or he hadn't been the Secret Keeper at all. The first option was more viable, but Hagrid sweared up and down that Sirius had not looked tortured at all.

For the sake of possibility, then, assuming Sirius had not been Secret Keeper. The only two other options were Peter Pettigrew and Remus Lupin, as the Potters would not trust anyone else enough to give their safety. They were close to a few other Order members, yes, but not quite so much. And Remus was doubted at the time...

Keeping this in mind, and thinking about what had happened after that night-Hagrid had said Sirius had departed looking murderous, hadn't he? Then he had _apparently _tracked down Peter Pettigrew-to finish the job-and...

Wait. Could it be possible? Had _Peter_ been the Secret Keeper? It made sense, a lot of sense, except for the dead thing. Sirius was going to _avenge _the Potters, possibly, and then..Peter had publicly accused him, cut off his finger, and blown up the street, probably escaping somehow.

And Sirius was left to laugh at the irony.

Albus was almost inclined to faint yet again.

How had no one figured it out before now? However unlikely, wasn't this the type of thing the Ministry was supposed to _prevent_? The lack of trial had seemed good at the time. Everyone had trusted Sirius. _Everyone_. The apparent betrayal left no one to plead for fairness, even the most avid justice seekers.

They had all been so very _wrong_.

And now...they were back, they most likely had fled to some foreign country for a while. They had been living somewhere, living off the money in their collective vaults (which must certainly be worth many thousands of Galleons) perhaps having contacted someone, perhaps not. Did Remus know of them? Suddenly Dumbledore was almost certain he did. Remus had been reluctant to take the job, not something Albus had suspected would happen at all. It had made no sense at the time, but now he realized he had probably been protecting Sirius and Harry. Perhaps he would question the man later.

The only remaining question was how Sirius had escaped. The Unspeakables supposedly had many theories, and Albus himself had a few crazy ideas, but none seemed to fit. Now he knew Peter had probably known the same magic-he had assumedly escaped too, after all-and Peter had never been the most powerful wizard. Hmm. Another clue, perhaps. Of course, if he broke the Obliviate, he would almost certainly know, but for now he had a healer after his blood and a werewolf to confront. He would puzzle that out later.

~*v{o}v*~

After frantically convening with Remus for several minutes, Sirius and Harry settled down to wait. Or more like Sirius settled down to frantically mutter things and occasionally bark questions at Harry, and Harry settled down to look around the room, half expecting someone to jump out of the wall.

Nothing happened.

Nothing _continued_ to happen.

Finally, after almost an hour of _very_ tense silence, Harry ventured, "Siri, we should probably go to bed."

Sirius glanced at him, wild eyed.

"We _should_!" Harry insisted. "You're all tense and everything, and so am I, and we're both going to spontaneously combust if we wait any longer." He was looking at Sirius with big, innocent eyes. Or at least, what counted as innocent when you didn't know him.

Sirius stared for a minute, then muttered, "Alright."  
As expected, both headed off to bed.

~*v{o}v*~

Remus Lupin was not having a good day.

Understandable, really. First, his best friend had given him panicked call about one Albus Dumbledore, and practically the second he canceled the floo connection, said person walked into the door.

And began interrogating him.

Seeming to already know about...well, everything.

Which _should _make things a good bit easier. However, Remus had been the DA teacher for years now, and he knew was very, very good at bluffing. Yes, if he knew everything, they might even be better off than before.

But Remus didn't know.

Suffice it to say, Remus Lupin was not having a good day.

***See? If you haven't reread that section, you have no idea what I'm talking about.**

**And I'm sorry! I should of found a better place to end, further on, but I've been writing this for _forever _and I just got tired of it.**


	5. In Which More People Find Out

**Vote! Tell me if I should keep chapters 1-4 up, cause it really is spectacularly horrid writing. Well, not _horrid_, but I don't _like_ it. **

**Anyways, I own Harry Potter.**

**And I lie a lot.**

**

* * *

**

After they got over their shock about their Potions teacher randomly seizing their best friend, Neville and Draco went crazy with worry, not that they'd ever admit it. Sure, weird things seemed to happen around James, but Snape had called him by his _name_. As far as they knew, the two had never seen each other before-if they had, James probably would have mentioned it while Draco taunted Neville about being afraid of said man. They didn't have potions together, luckily, that probably would _not _have turned out well. Plus, Snape _never _called _anyone_ by their first name, not even Draco, who he _liked_.

But that was irrelevant. The two frienemies were panicking. So they decided to compromise-even though they usually barely talked to each other at all when James was not there to bridge the gap, they needed a partner to figure this out.

Draco was pacing. "How would he know James?" He said, yet again. "It doesn't make sense!"

Neville was sitting and biting his lip. "I don't know. Where did he take James? Where _would _he take James? Hogwarts?"

Draco stopped suddenly. "Yes! Hogwarts! Here, come on..."

With that, he dragged the poor bewildered Hufflepuff away. "Draco!" Neville protested as said boy practically dragged him down the street. "Where are we _going_?"

"My father, then Hogwarts." Draco said. "I'll have to make up an excuse..." He muttered. "Why?" Neville asked, still a little confused. Draco shot him an irritated glance. "Why are we going to Hogwarts or why do I need an excuse? Well, I need an excuse so Father won't be mad, well, not ballistic at least, and we need to go to Hogwarts because that's the only logical place Severus Snape would take James. That I can think of, at least."

"Oh...okay." Neville said. "And how exactly are we going to get to Hogwarts?" Draco frowned for a second before brightening and saying, "Floo. There's a room in the dungeons with a fireplace that no one ever visits, we can arrive there."

Neville made a face at the 'dungeons' comment, but this was the best (and only) plan they had, so it would have to do.

Draco tracked down his father-Lucius was just turning into Knockturn-and quickly came up with an excuse. Neville and Draco exchanged grins, then headed to the Leaky Cauldron. A few galleons later, Draco had smoothly walked out of the Hogwarts dungeons and Neville had kind of tumbled onto the floor. Draco snickered at his frienemy and watched with an arched eyebrow as Neville scrambled to his feet, glaring. Draco was the only one of the trio who could land well after traveling by Floo, including James, although James usually landed somewhat upright.

They headed towards Snapes' classroom in unspoken agreement, but he didn't appear to be there. Which put a major hole in their plans, Hogwarts was _huge_ and there was no way they could explore the whole thing before Snape did something dastardly to James, if James was even _in _Hogwarts. They looked at each other. "What now?" Draco asked. Neville shrugged hopelessly. "I don't know... you think maybe he's in the Headmaster's office?"

Draco shrugged as well and they navigated their way out of the dungeons.

They were quickly and silently heading that way when they passed the Defense room-and they heard voices. Two pairs of eyes widened- there were ways to get to the Headmaster's office without going through this hallway, but the ones that they knew of took forever.

Neville pointed down the hallway then looked questioningly at Draco. Draco appeared to think for a moment before deciding that it was the best way and nodding, looking worried. They exchanged very nervous grins before inching down the hallway-

and being stopped by a sharp voice. "Who's there?"

~*v{o}v*~

Remus Lupin was decidedly nervous.

He was being interrogated by Albus Dumbledore, and he had absolutely no idea how to avoid the questions. Right now he was dodging them fairly well, but he wouldn't last much longer...

Luckily, fate decided to intervene, for at that moment Remus' advanced sense of smell picked up two people outside the room. "Who's there?" He said, partly truly curious and partly just thankful to get out of this interrogation. Albus stopped his questioning abruptly and stared at him. "You hear someone?" Remus nodded quickly, even if it wasn't _totally _truthful, and walked to the door, silently thanking whoever this was, once again.

Until he saw that it was Draco Malfoy and Neville Longbottom, and realized that things may just have gotten a whole lot worse.

~*v{o}v*~

Neville and Draco didn't really have a chance to run. They might have, but just being detected like that...well, Professor Lupin always _had _had an extraordinary ability to know if people were sneaking about, it was just their luck that he caught them.

He walked out of the classroom looking happy, strangely enough, right up until he saw them. At that point he groaned "Oh, _great_." and something that sounded extraordinarily like, "What exactly did I do to deserve this?"

Headmaster Dumbledore had also walked out of the room, and he looked puzzled at the appearance of two students-and was that a flicker of _annoyance_? Surely not...

Even if it was, he invited them in politely enough. "Would you like to come in and explain why you are lurking around Hogwarts without any guardians con summer vacation?"

Professor Lupin looked like he was sucking a sour lemon, or perhaps moaning, "Why me?" but he gave a strained smile and said, "Yes, boys, that would be nice.."

Draco and Neville shot panicked looks at each other, but there was really no way out of the situation. They walked in.

~*v{o}v*~

The questioning started almost immediately. "Well?" Headmaster Dumbledore asked, in a warm voice, eyes twinkling.

Neville answered, sending an uncertain look at Draco. "Well, we were with our friend James" - Dumbledore suddenly looked very interested indeed, and Remus buried his face in his hands- "And he bumped into Severus Snape, and Snape pretty much kidnapped him, and we thought the only place he would take James was Hogwarts, so we Flooed here to look for him, cause James is homeschooled and we were really worried when a teacher randomly kidnapped our friend that we didn't think he'd seen before for no reason." This had been said in rather a rush, and Neville was looking at Dumbledore hopefully. "Have you seen him?"

Dumbledore appeared lost in thought. "What does James look like?" He asked. Neville grinned nervously. "He has really messy black hair and these huge green eyes, and round glasses. Umm...his robes aren't very noticeable, just usually black, and..."

Draco, who nervous himself, was stepping on Nevilles' toes, hard. "Hey!" Neville yelped, glaring, but Draco drew a finger across his throat, and Neville fell silent. None of which was lost on the Headmaster. Or Remus, for that matter, who was pretty sure he was screwed at this point.

"Yes, I have seen him." Dumbledore said, eyes twinkling full speed. "Your friend is fine, probably at his house at the moment. You should probably go home now, I'm sure your families are worried about you. I am also sure Remus will allow you to use his fireplace." Remus nodded quickly. Draco scowled, but Neville just looked relieved to have gotten out of the situation without punishment.

They left, though not without some suspicious glances thrown at Professor Lupin and Headmaster Dumbledore.

~*v{o}v*~

The duo tumbled clumsily and walked gracefully, respectively, out of the fireplace at the Leaky Cauldron. They looked at each other for a minute.

Draco said, "What was that all about? Why did Professor Lupin look so nervous?"

Neville shrugged.

They looked at each other for a minute.

Draco said, "What are we going to do now?"

Neville shrugged.

They looked at each other for a minute.

Draco said, "James is probably hooked up to the Floo."

Neville nodded.

They looked at each for a minute.

Draco said, "I think 'James Whites' living room would probably work."

Neville shrugged. "Okay, let's try it."

At which point they tried to Floo to "James Whites' living room."

It didn't work.

They looked at each other for a minute.

Neville said, "Didn't he say his dad's name was Patrick that one time?"

At which point they tried to Floo to "Patrick Whites' living room."

And suddenly they were hurtling through the fireplace.

~*v{o}v*~

Harry Potter was pacing around in his room.

He had suggested that he and Sirius go to bed, because it had seemed like a whole lot longer than an hour that they'd been waiting around doing nothing. Except it wasn't, it was like two in afternoon now, and he was _bored._

Until he heard something from the living room that sounded suspiciously like the Floo network.

He and Sirius were connected to the Floo network, under Patrick White, but it was charmed to not let anyone through without permission other than Remus, Sirius, and Harry. So they were probably stuck in the fireplace right now, whoever they were.

Harry hurried out to the living room, glad for something to do.

"WHO _DARES _DISTURB THE HOME OF THE GREAT-" At this point Harry caught sight of his friends hanging out the fireplace. "Oh, it's you guys. How'd you find my house anyways?"

Draco snapped, "It doesn't matter, just let us out of here! My robes are getting all dirty!"

Harry chuckled. "Now why would I ever do that? Tell me why you're here first."

Draco growled. "We were worried when Snape kidnapped you and we went to Hogwarts and Professor Lupin and Dumbledore caught us and Dumbledore asked us what you looked like and then told us you were fine and had probably went home and then we just Flooed 'Patrick White's living room," because Neville remembered that's your dad's name. Happy?"

Harry, who looked a little shaken at the mention of Dumbledore, but tried to shrug nonchalantly anyways. "Sure." Draco and Neville tumbled out of the fireplace. Draco was glaring, Neville just looked a little sick from all the Flooing he'd been doing today.

Surprisingly, it was Neville who spoke first. "Alright, I think you owe us an explanation. We've Flooed-" Neville paused a moment to think- "Three times today, not to mention just going to the alley, and I _hate _Flooing." He glared at Harry.

Harry sighed, and collapsed into a conveniently placed arm chair. He gestured to two other conveniently placed armchairs. "C'mon, sit, otherwise you'll hit your head on the floor when you faint and I'll have to deal with the wrath of two influential pureblood families."

Neville and Draco exchanged confused looks before sitting obediently.

"Okay." Harry sighed. "Wellll... I'm Harry Potter, my godfather is Sirius Black, he's not actually evil, except he's an illegal animagus, he's sleeping in the next room, he never killed anyone, Remus Lupin is one of his best friends. Oh, and Peter Pettigrew never died."

Both friends were glaring at him. "Nice try." Neville said. "Horribly unrealistic, but I have to award points for creativity."

Harry smirked. "Oh?"

He whipped out a wand from some obscure pocket, pointed it at his own forehead, muttered something under his breath, and swept his messy black hair off his forehead.

Which had suddenly gained a lightning bolt scar.

~*v{o}v*~

Neither of his friends fainted, happily enough.

They were, however, speechless for a good ten minutes. In which Harry pretty much told them the same story he'd told Dumbledore, with a few added points of traveling life.

Finally, Draco managed to mutter, "Father is going to _murder _me when he finds out..."

* * *

**And once again, stuff happens that is funny. **


	6. In Which Not Much Happens

**Umm, I' trying to update this at least once a month, so you can pretty much count on that. However, I started writing a crossover (it's HP/something with Kid Flash) so that'll take up a bit of my time.**

"So, let me get this straight," Draco said, sitting in, apparently, Harry Potter and Sirius Black's living room. "You're Harry Potter, your godfather is Sirius Black, he's in the next room, and he never actually murdered anyone?" Harry nodded obligingly.

"I'm dreaming." Draco muttered. "That is the only possible explanation for this, and I'm going to have to punish Monny for putting whatever she put in my drink, because there is no way I could think of this myself, it's too insane, and if I don't wake up soon..." He glared at his arm, which he was pinching. It wasn't waking him up.

Neville, sitting in the other armchair, said, "Here, I'll do it." He walked over to Draco, and pinched him.

The scene faded away...

~*v{o}v*~

Draco Malfoy shot up in his bed with the silk sheets and satin pillows, pale (not that that was anything new) and sweaty. "Thank _goodness_ it was only a dream. MONNY!"

~*v{o}v*~

**Hahaha, NO.**

~*v{o}v*~

In Draco's eyes, at least. The pinching (or more likely the stress on his _delicate _constitution) had made him pass out.

Neville looked at him, unimpressed. "You know, it's really sad that he fainted before me." Harry nodded sagely.

They sat in silence for a minute, then Harry brightened up. "I should introduce you to Sirius!" And with no fanfare at all, he yelled, "OI, SIRI! I MADE PANCAKES!"

A minute later, a bleary eyed person who looked nothing at all like the Sirius Black Neville knew about stumbled out of a side hallway. He didn't look much like anyone, actually, as his hair was tussled he had sleep in his eyes and he was hugging a blanket to his chest. "It's too early to be alive," He groaned, then promptly collapsed into a conveniently placed armchair.

Harry skipped over, and I'm talking literally, and flopped into Sirius' lap. "Hi! I actually just told Neville Longbottom and Draco Malfoy our joint life stories and Dumbledore is most likely about to figure it out, so our cover is pretty much blown."

Sirius moaned, "Okay, great. Now gimme some pancakes."

Neville looked dumbstruck.

Harry just grabbed one of his wands out of some obscure pocket and calmly cast _Aguamenti_.

It didn't work. The water evaporated just as it touched Sirius. He yawned.

Harry pouted, and turned to Neville. "You see what he does? He doesn't even have the decency to let me wake him up good and proper, he puts a shield on. Gosh. Way to be wimpy."

"Who you talkin' to, Harry?" Sirius slurred. "You better notta gotten a hot girl to slap me again."

Harry grinned. "Nope. Just my dear friend, Neville Longbottom."

Sirius subsided into his chair. "That's good."

It was only after Harry had actually given Sirius a cup of coffee and a frozen pancake that he actually woke up enough to figure out what Harry had said.

Sirius suddenly shot up, having finished his coffee. "Wait... Why is Neville here? Is that _Draco_? What's going on?"

Harry pouted. "I _told_ you already. I just told them our joint life stories and Dumbledore is about to figure it out! Jeez!"

Sirius said, "And you're not worried?" while desperately trying to think of something he could do. "Also, no periwinkle for a month for telling your friends the truth."

"But _Siri_!" Harry groaned.

"No." Sirius replied. "Is there any way at all to save the situation?"

A head shake.

"Righto..."

~*v{o}v*~

Albus (insert lots of middle names) Dumbledore looked at Remus Lupin.

Remus Lupin looked back.

It transgressed into a staring contest.

Remus gave in.

"Oh, _fine_. Yes, I've been in contact with Sirius Black and Harry Potter for some time now, and no, they're not evil." Dumbledore grinned at getting Remus to crack, and didn't think about the 'not evil' thing. He'd been considering it as a fairly likely option, after all.

Remus continued. "Sirius wasn't the secret keeper, Peter was. I'm telling a story so don't interrupt." He scowled at the Headmaster, who smiled sheepishly. "Actually, Sirius was the secret keeper at first but because of the missions you sent me on-" Albus at least had the decency to look ashamed- "they didn't trust me, thought me a spy, and didn't tell me. You should also know that all of us are Animagus, excluding me, of course-it was to help me as a werewolf. James is a stag, Sirius is a black dog, and Peter..." Hate flared in his eyes. "Peter is a rat. So Sirius went running straight into his arms, and Peter called _him _the traitor and blew up the street, transforming into what he is, a rat. Sirius was left laughing... And he was sent to Azkaban, with too much evidence to discount him and no one to believe his innocent. Meanwhile, _Harry_ was sent to the Dursleys, who mistreated him, as you would have found out if you had ever _checked_." Albus looked sad.

Remus continued, "When Harry was a toddler, Sirius escaped as a emaciated dog-Dementors have less affect on animals-and somehow managed to swim across and rescue Harry from the Dursleys, although it must have been torture with his energy levels at the time. Then they fled to the mainland, and later contacted me and told me all this, when they moved back. They've since been living happily somewhere in London. I know their Floo address, but I'm not telling you until you are sworn to secrecy. Which I should have done in the first place." Remus gave Dumbledore a look.

"Oh, my." Was all Dumbledore said. After recovering his faith in humanity, he asked, "Wouldn't you rather have me prove him innocent?"

Remus shook his head. "Harry and Sirius are both perfectly happy. Well, I'm sure Sirius would _like _being considered innocent, and Harry would probably like Hogwarts, but..." Remus sighed, having just figured out that there wasn't really a good reason to _not _do both of those things, now that they had the chance. "Well, I guess Harry's second year is starting soon..."

**I think this is a little shorter than usual, but there really wasn't a good reason to make it longer. So.**


	7. In Which the Author Gives Up

**I'm really, really sorry, but I've lost all inspiration for this story. If someone wants to conitnue this, that'd be great. However, if you're going to continue this you have to write a paragraph based on Harry, prompt being "Lion" so I can check for bad grammar. I'm just a grammar freak and it would annoy me to no end to have one of my most popular stories continued on with bad grammar.**

**Again, I am _so _sorry, but we write stories for fun and when you lose inspiration it's really not that fun anymore.**


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